Finally
by freakylikethis
Summary: Damon and Elena FINALLY kiss - but when Klaus decides to screw with both of them by telling Elena Damon and Rebekah slept together, Elena shows up at the Salvatore Boarding House ready to kick some ass... until Damon tells her who he REALLY wants to sleep with.
1. The Kiss

three days. seventy-two hours. four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes.

a lifetime.

that's how long it had been since he'd kissed her. that was how long she'd been thirsty for more.

it was insane, the potency of his lips on hers, the electric buzz that sharpened every sense and destroyed every thought. except one, which wasn't even a _thought_, really, just a single word echoing loudly over the sound of her spontaneously combusting brain cells.

_finally_.

she could bring it back in an instant. the way he'd whirled around, eyes flashing with frustration, anger, desire, _need_. the way he'd moved in on her, so quickly, so smoothly, giving her no chance to brace herself. the way he'd pulled her close, loving her mouth with his. god, the feel of those warm, soft, devastating lips pressed to hers, those long, hard, deliciously masculine hands cupping her chin, sliding back to tangle in her hair and cradle her head. the pressure of his fingertips as he tilted her chin upward so their mouths were aligned.

elena lay in bed, eyes closed, fingers restlessly pleating the folds of her comforter. it was past midnight, though she wasn't drowsy in the slightest. quite the opposite, really. she was primed for action, impatient to move, to do something, anything.

no, not _anything_. that was a dangerous word. and a terribly tempting one.

had it been a fluke? that staggering vulnerability, that incredible sensitivity to damon's touch - was it simply the product of emotional and physical exhaustion? it didn't make sense, didn't fit the rules of logic that the softest brush of lips should overwhelm her system so completely. it didn't make sense for a kiss like that to override her ability to think, to move, to speak. really, it hadn't been a particularly passionate kiss, not the kind meant to fan the sparks of lust until they burst into brilliant flame. it hadn't been a prelude, hadn't been the first step that would lead to a whole world of _more_.

no, he hadn't been stoking the fires, but they flared high and bright all the same.

if she'd been an onlooker, someone who just happened to be passing by when he kissed her, she probably would've considered the scene sweet. innocent. well, maybe not innocent. even a stranger would see that such an adjective couldn't possibly apply to damon.

but god, it had been sweet.

still, a sweet kiss shouldn't keep her up at night. especially when there were so many other things that _should_ keep her up - so many things to worry about, so many reasons to stay sharp and focused and ready for whatever klaus threw her way. if she couldn't rest her brain, she should be doing something productive with it, strategizing, planning, working to figure out and anticipate his next move.

she shouldn't be obsessing over a simple kiss, one that had undoubtedly been a mistake. even damon must realize that. they would never be together, not in any real way. their chemistry, though intensely, incredibly overwhelming, would certainly burn out. no two people could possibly spend a lifetime maintaining that kind of spark. it was lust that brought bodies together; it was love that joined hearts.

he wanted both her body and her heart. he'd wanted the former from the very beginning, from their very first meeting when he'd used that sexy, skilled mouth to skim a kiss over her knuckles.

his desire for the latter took longer to develop. a handful of weeks, at the very least.

that was the whole problem, wasn't it? he still wanted her heart. and his was elena's for the taking. all she had to do was say the word, and he'd give her everything she wanted, everything she needed.

it wouldn't be fair to seek solace in his arms, not when she wasn't sure of her own motivation. was she lying there replaying the mind-numbing kiss because reliving it gave her a moment's escape from the real world? was she obsessing over the kiss itself, or was she obsessing over the person who'd kissed her?

she wasn't sure she'd be happy with either answer, which was all the more reason to stop asking the question. hadn't she been through enough with stefan? did she really want to go through it all over again with the older salvatore brother?

and the sneaky, smug, satisfied voice inside her head asked, _do you really think you have a choice?_

she was terribly afraid she didn't. but damn it, too much had already changed. too much was still changing. she needed him, needed the solid strength he embodied, needed that one element of constancy in her life. because what she'd said to him that night had been unbearably true. she wasn't sure she could have survived the summer without him. hell, she wasn't sure she could have survived _yesterday_ without him.

and she already knew she wouldn't survive tomorrow without damon by her side.

a handful of stolen moments ripe with pleasure wouldn't be enough to balance out all the hard, cruel pain of reality. to risk damon would be terribly stupid. he was her support, her sounding board, her shoulder. her saving grace.

no, she couldn't risk their friendship. couldn't allow herself to give in to hormones, jeopardizing what was one of the most important relationships in her life. those stolen moments, hot and sparkling, vivid and intoxicating - no. as good as it would feel - and after that one fleeting taste, she knew it would feel damn good - it just wasn't worth the risk.

irritated with herself, elena rolled over, pulling the blankets more securely around her and tucking herself in until she was cocooned in the comforting warmth of her bed.

no, it wouldn't be worth it. as much as she wanted him - and damned if she didn't - she was too afraid. terrified, really, that as rewarding as it would be to give herself over to the mindless pleasure he would undoubtedly provide, it just wouldn't be worth it.

and as she thought it, the little voice whispered again, sly and smiling.

_what are you really worried about, elena? are you scared that it's not worth it, or are you scared that it just may be worth everything and more?_

elena let out a frustrated groan and ignored the question, even as she wondered how long she could keep ignoring its answer.


	2. Just Not Right Now

here they were again. on her doorstep, the same doorstep where he'd so recently kissed her.

where she had, she knew, kissed him back without hesitation.

but her thoughts weren't on that kiss - for perhaps the first time since it had happened.

instead, they were on wickery bridge.

where, over a year ago, stefan wouldn't let her die.

where, hours ago, he would have.

"is this going to be my life, damon? i mean god, _god_, how many times in a year can a girl get kidnapped? have her goddamn life ransomed to the highest bidder? first its rose throwing me into a car, then elijah's out for my blood just because it's my blood. maybe i could accept it if it was about _me_, but it's not. it's my own unlucky genes. i just had to be descended from some mystery woman and cursed with this stupid face."

"it's a hell of a face," he murmured, lips quirked in a little smile.

she didn't acknowledge his words, was too deep in her own frustrated anguish to even hear him.

"then klaus steps up, takes me, wants me dead for his own nefarious schemes - " now she paused, shot damon a look. no, she didn't acknowledge his words, but she damn well heard his little snort of laughter. "shut _up_! i know i'm whining and bitching and wallowing, okay? but damn it, after this, after all this, i don't care. i don't _care_. it was never supposed to be stefan, damon." her eyes were bright with tears, and it took everything in him to hold back, to stop himself from pulling her into his arms and making it all go away, if only for an instant.

god knew it took immense self control to keep his tone light. "first of all, i didn't accuse you of throwing yourself a pity party. because you clearly know you're doing that already." he met her glare with a quick grin. "hey, you said it. second off, you'll always care. you can try not to, but you're just not built to be some kind of unfeeling hardass. and i wouldn't take you any other way."

he let his words hang in the air, not to give her a chance to comment, but to give those words a moment to really hit her. she so desperately needed to know someone loved her for who she was, not what she was.

"you wouldn't be who you are if you weren't... well, if you weren't who you are."

"whatever that means."

"it means you can handle it. it means that, just like always, you _will_ survive." he paused, collected his thoughts. "it was bad tonight, elena."

now she scoffed. "understatement."

"stop it," he said, gently rather than fiercely. "stop feeling sorry for yourself." he tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear, and his eyes were soft and intense all at once. it was the magic of those eyes, the way they could simultaneously express so clearly two - three, four, twenty - incredibly different emotions. "you're right that it should never have been stefan. but that doesn't change the fact that it was.

"and when it comes down to it, he won this round today. he pushed klaus to the end, and klaus blinked. we needed it. that dick has been calling all the shots, and stefan beat him at his own game. he was the better villain," damon said, echoing his brother's words.

elena scowled. "don't sound so proud."

"oh come on," he told her, smiling. "can't help but be a little impressed."

she knew he wanted her to return the smile, tried to accommodate him by curving her lips.

instead, the dam broke, and she burst into tears.

this time he couldn't stop himself, couldn't stand to watch her all but bleed in front of him. he pulled her close, running a hand down her hair, making soothing sounds, rocking her back and forth ever so slightly in a smooth, calming motion.

"it's gonna be okay, elena." his tone was low but filled with conviction. "you know how i know?"

"because you won't let anything bad happen to me?"

she mumbled the question into his chest, and he moved gently, running his hands up the length of her arms til they came up to her shoulders. he drew back so that he could look at her, really look.

she was pale, her eyes clouded with exhaustion. the bags under her eyes, looking like bruises, stood out in marked contrast to her pallor.

most of all, she looked terribly, painfully vulnerable.

he wanted to scoop her up and tuck her into bed. to kiss her brow and turn off the light, to stay there beside her until her breathing leveled and she fell into dreamless sleep.

wanted to scoop her up and tuck her into bed. and slip in beside her, and do everything in his power to make her forget. to empty her mind of everything until all she could do was feel.

and looking at her, he knew he could do it. which was precisely why he didn't.

"no," he told her, relieved to see a flash of confusion in her eyes. any response was better than none. "well, yes. i won't let a damn thing happen to you. but you won't let anything happen to you, either."

the confusion registered on her face this time as she waited for him to elaborate.

now he moved his hands from her shoulders to cup her face, to run her fingers along that pretty jaw. she brought out a tenderness in him, one he hadn't been aware of. it was a holdover from his life before - well, his life before death.

she wasn't his humanity, necessarily. she was the person who managed to reawaken it. the person who made him not just tolerate but welcome that humanity.

"you get rid of any obstacle you can, and if you can't make it go away, you deal with it. you get battered along the way, and it sucks, it sucks so much. but you keep coming out on top. i know it doesn't feel like it, but every day you get stronger, more determined. you've grown so much in a year, elena. i'm gonna be here to see exactly what the next year brings, and the one after that.

"because there will be next years, and they won't all be haunted. you won't let anything or anyone else get in the way."

he meant it. she could see it in his eyes. his absolute, unswerving belief that she could - no, that she _would_ - win.

maybe she'd stumble along the way, but if worse came to worst, if she wasn't sure she could get up again, he'd be right next to her. and he'd get her on her feet again, whether he used brute force or soft words to do so.

"i'm so grateful, damon." she had to say it. "i guess i don't always show it," she went on, while that damn voice in her head told her she was lying, that she was fully aware that she didn't always show it because she was scared to open herself up to him. because she was terrified that giving in to pleasure meant inviting pain.

and worse, so much worse, risking him.

"but i am. you have to know that. you're the one thing i can depend on. i've got ric, caroline, bonnie, even jeremy would hop a flight to come home, if i needed him. but if i need someone, it's you. i don't even think about it." he had to know, simply had to know how much he meant to her. all else aside, she needed him to know that, to know he didn't just matter - he was essential.

she didn't want to put all else aside. she wanted to embrace the shadows of their relationship instead of running away. she couldn't help it when her eyes drifted to his mouth. it was a hell of a lot harder to keep her mind off it when she knew just how it felt on hers.

and she saw the awareness come into his eyes.

"you can't kiss me again," she managed, and wasn't entirely sure why she said it - or why she sounded so desperate, why she sounded so pleading.

_lie_, the voice whispered. she was desperate, pleading, because she wanted him to brush away those words and kiss her anyway. if he just ignored the plea, she could convince herself that he'd taken the choice out of her hands, that she'd only let him kiss her instead of inviting the kiss. then she could alleviate the mess of guilt and distress and confused frustration that accompanied just the thought of kissing him.

but he didn't move in, just ran a fingertip along the curve of her cheekbone.

"i know," he said, and his eyes told her that he did know. not just her fear of him, of them, but of her rationale. he knew she was pushing him away while hoping he'd pull her back.

"it's not right." god, who was she trying to convince? him, or herself?

"it's right," he murmured, his voice absolutely sure.

oh, god, he made her want to believe. she searched his face, scanned those deceptively gentle blue eyes.

and wondered what they'd look like when he was lost in passion. when he was lost in _her_. would they flash the way they did when he was pissed off? would they darken as they did when his mood shifted abruptly from lighthearted to dead serious?

would they go blind when he let himself go?

she gave herself a mental shake, closed her eyes. stepped back and grasped the doorknob.

"goodnight, damon."

but she didn't move, didn't twist the knob. just stared at him, unwilling - unable? - to break eye contact.

and he knew, saw so clearly, that if he reached for her now, she'd accept him. she'd welcome him. in this moment, when she was so totally utterly exhausted, so open, so vulnerable, that she'd give him anything and everything.

and come morning, he'd be left with nothing.

he couldn't do it. he couldn't take what she wasn't offering. she'd let herself be taken, yes. but she wouldn't _give_. and he needed that more than he'd even known.

so it was he who returned her good night, then turned away and started for the stairs.

the sound of her letting out a long, unsteady breath made him smile. it was a balm to his own raging hunger for her. knowing she suffered from even a hint of the sexual frustration he was battling made him feel a little better.

and later, he was sure as hell going to make up for lost time.

she still hadn't gone into the house when he paused to look over his shoulder, saw her as she stared into space.

"elena?"

she jerked as his voice broke into her thoughts.

"damon?"

"it is right." and his smile was slow, sweet. then turned into a wicked smirk. "it's just not right now."

he got into his car with that smirk still in place while elena frowned into the darkness.

"cocky bastard," she muttered.

_just not right now..._

like it was inevitable. like they were inevitable.

and that voice, that voice again that said maybe, just maybe, they were.

it was a long time before elena went inside, readied herself for bed. and an even longer time before she escaped from her damon-ridden thoughts and succumbed to sleep.

when she finally drifted off, she dreamed of him.


	3. The ABCs of Sexual Frustration

it seemed that somehow, in the midst of the complete and utter chaos that made up elena gilbert's life, there was still room in her brain to obsess.

not over stefan's betrayal. not over her brother's relocation. not over her possibly-alcoholic-stand-in-father. not over klaus and whatever evil schemes he was undoubtedly planning. not over secret coffins or 1000-year-old blondes out for her blood (literally) or her best friend's daddy issues.

there was simply no room in her mind for anything damon salvatore.

specifically his mouth. and taste. and kiss.

she groaned into her pillow, fighting off sleep - fighting off dreams. they haunted her, plagued her, teased her mercilessly. he haunted her, plagued her. mercilessly teased her. it was bad enough to have him there in the back of her mind while she was awake, but in typical damon fashion he had to have it all by dominating her sleep as well.

well, there was clearly only one solution. she'd have to kill him.

_or,_ said that talkative little voice,_ you could kiss him..._

maybe she'd do both.

she looked at her bedside clock and glowered at the display. three am. she'd always considered it to be the most vulnerable time of day, caught between darkness and light, between dreams and reality.

that thought planted the seed of a whole different one.

if three am was the mysterious in-between time, she reasoned, then what happened during that hour didn't have to mean anything. it was like _un_- time. time caught between dreams and reality.

she bit her lip, staring hard into the darkness of her room.

her desire to just show up at the salvatore mansion was fierce - moreso than she anticipated. what would he do if she drove over there, went inside, sauntered into his room and slid between the warm sheets beside him, waking him with a kiss?

she let out a short laugh. stupid question. he'd grab the opportunity with both hands. that, after all, was his style.

or was it? she asked herself, sighing as she fell back against her pillows. he wasn't doing much grabbing these days. in fact, he almost seemed to be avoiding her. she'd gone days without seeing him, and then he'd disarmed her several nights before by showing up unexpectedly at her door. her heart had hammered - was this the _right now _he'd spoken of? - and he'd given her one of his bone-melting smiles.

and asked if ric was home.

she'd barely been able to keep her jaw from dropping.

he'd stayed for dinner - ric had mastered the art of heating up hamburger helper - and focused all his attention on a conversation with ric that she barely heard over the angry buzzing in her ears. every now and then he'd tossed her a few indulgent smiles - infuriatingly patronizing smiles. the kind a parent would send a particularly slow child.

she'd tried, really tried to act unaffected by his presence. but every time her eyes strayed his way, her heart rate would kick up. when she found herself getting jealous of the utensils slipping in and out of his lips, she'd kicked back from the table and excused herself - only to find herself cornered in the kitchen as she rinsed her dishes.

every time she'd turned to grab another plate or a dishtowel, the soap or a sponge, he'd been a breath away from her, completely disregarding the concept of personal space. she'd snapped at him, calling him out on those smooth movements that shouldn't have affected her so strongly.

"stop doing that," she'd ordered, trying to level her breathing after he'd reached over her to replace a glass, his arm brushing the side of her breast as he tucked it away in a cupboard.

he'd looked at her, all innocence. "doing what?"

"we both know you did that deliberately."

"well, yeah," he said, adopting a confused expression that she didn't believe for a second. "i was _deliberately_ trying to get to the sink."

hours later her breasts still tingled from that fleeting moment of contact.

then then there were the mornings when he'd drop in on what he fondly referred to as "buffy time," offering to help her train. then sending sparks through every cell in her body by skimming his fingertips along her skin, guiding her through various stretches and exercises, sparring with her, pinning her to the blue gym mat with his hard, lean body.

and god, was it really necessary for him to take off his shirt during those workouts? to display a perfectly sculpted body gleaming with a sheen of healthy sweat? and didn't it just figure that instead of smelling like an old gym sock, the warm scent of his sweaty skin was clean and masculine and ridiculously appealing?

was this how alcoholics felt when they went to a bar? desperately thirsty, drooling with desire?

and like liquor to an alcoholic, to her damon was the forbidden fruit she longed to taste, to sip, to savor.

with every passing minute her reasons for keeping her distance grew cloudy and vague. with every passing minute her resolve weakened, and she was sure that the longer she went without indulging her hormones the more likely she was to jump his damn bones the next time she saw him.

irritated, restless and hungry, she yanked the covers over her head and practiced a drill she'd used for years when she had trouble sleeping. category, food. she'd go letter by letter through the alphabet, naming a food for each letter.

'a' is for apple... 'b' is for banana. 'c' is for chocolate...

_syrup, drizzled on his skin, her tongue, tracing that dark, sweet trail going lower, lower... his breath, labored, his body, trembling, his hand, fisted in her hair, dragging her head back, yanking her to him in a violent mating of lips..._

even in the privacy of her room, her thoughts had elena's cheeks flushing with embarrassment. damn if the man didn't wake something up inside her, bringing out needs she hadn't been aware of having. and now that she was aware of them, she couldn't relegate them to the cobwebbed corners of her brain. she'd tried, mostly out of self preservation. you could hardly be alert, ready for the next land mine to blow underfoot if you were lost in a blinding cloud of lust.

and thoughts of a hard body and hot nights were hardly conducive to sleep.

gritting her teeth, elena switched gears, tried the old counting sheep trick.

_one._

_... hell of a kiss._

_two._

_... hypnotic blue eyes._

_three._

_... pulsing seconds before he'd closed the distance._

_four._

_... words. just not right now..._

_five._

_... skilled fingers on a wide-palmed, rough,_ _oh-so-_male _hand whispering over her skin._

she wanted to scream. wanted to drag her mind out of the gutter.

wanted to drag him into it.

she wondered what the hell she had spent her time thinking about before that earthshaking kiss. she couldn't seem to remember a time when it hadn't been on her mind. it was like her brain systematically rejected all other thoughts, forcing her to focus solely on that brief meeting of mouths, that bright flicker of heat that promised a roaring flame.

it didn't make _sense_. that was the problem. there was no reason for her to be so damn fixated on a kiss, one that was over practically before it had a chance to begin. she'd seen the look in his eyes, seen his intent, known that he'd been on the verge of closing the distance between them. had known that he was giving her time to accept him or turn away.

didn't he know she was long past having a choice?

maybe she'd never had one to begin with.

god _damn _him. if he got even a lightning-quick glimpse into her thoughts she'd never be able to look him in the eye again. and she just knew he'd give her one of those smirks. those wicked, all-too-knowing smirks.

and then she'd have to wipe the damn thing off his face.

with her mouth. her teeth. her tongue.

oh, god, she so wanted to quench those needs that were suddenly more important than sleep - obviously - than food, than water itself. god knew she hardly needed the actual any when his taste still stung her lips. he was like a cool spring soothing the throat of someone trapped under the desert sun. reviving her, invigorating her, satisfying her as nothing else could.

but what if she'd never really be satisfied? would one more sip be enough?

well, it's not like she'd ever know the answer to the question if she didn't try answering the question. so she would do precisely that. quench that thirst, find that answer.

_like you don't already know it._

shut _up_! it was that damn voice again, that damn voice which was constantly switching between playing angel and playing devil. encouraging her onwards one moment, warning her off the next.

she tried to step back, to look at things from a reasonable, detached perspective. from the point of view of an outsider, and impartial party.

pros? she'd get another taste.

cons? ... she wouldn't get another taste.

letting out another groan of frustration, elena knew that there was only one thing she was absolutely sure of. she couldn't function in this haze much longer. not when there were so many dangerous, life-or-death obstacles crowding her every waking minute. she had to be sharp. couldn't risk anything less.

and really, wasn't damon the one who was so determined to keep her safe, to keep her alive?

in fact, it was downright irresponsible to allow these thoughts, these feelings, to keep running rampant in her mind - certainly not when she knew how to quell them, to quiet them.

and elena gilbert was nothing if not responsible.


	4. Damon Throws a Temper Tantrum

"well now, aren't you the picture of domesticity."

the amused - and highly unwelcome - comment came from behind damon, who was on his knees scrubbing furiously at the runner sweeping the length of the salvatore mansion's front hall.

"it's an antique," damon snapped, pausing long enough to send his visitor a withering glare.

"ah," klaus answered, lips twisted in an infuriating smile.

"couldn't you have taught my brother some goddamn table manners?" damon seethed, staring down at the bloodstain with distaste. "the guy should wear a fucking bib."

he threw the rag he was using to the ground, let out a huff of breath and sat on the edge of the bottom stair, still glowering at the discolored spot. the house smelled lemony fresh, the windows sparkled, every wood surface gleamed bright as a mirror.

"salt," klaus said, tongue-in-cheek.

"excuse me?"

"gets out bloodstains," he explained cheerfully. he wasn't trying to be helpful; it was just really, really funny to watch damon's futile efforts.

damon wondered briefly if the guy was putting him on, then gave a nonchalant shrug.

"doesn't matter," he said dismissively, his tone suggesting that he couldn't care less even as he made a note to try the suggestion when he was alone again. it wasn't that he cared, necessarily - although, okay, he did like the runner, with its intricate pattern and warm tones of crimson and forest green and creamy beige. plus, it _was_ an antique. he could still remember the day he'd helped lug the rolled rug inside, unfurled it down the upstairs hall. watched his mother as she cocked her head, surveyed the scene, then promptly decided the carpet was more suited to the foyer.

he'd humored her. he'd always been willing to humor his mother.

klaus idly trailed a hand along the banister, examined his fingertips and noted that they were dust-free. he looked at damon again, blue eyes twinkling. "so, damon, may i ask what exactly inspired this sudden passion for cleanliness?"

damon was tempted to answer with a sharp 'no,' then decided that being difficult would only prolong the conversation.

"spring," he said, gesturing broadly to the house at large. "ergo, spring cleaning."

"of course," klaus responded sagely, not bothering to hide his grin. waves of tension were filling the air around damon - of the sexual nature, if klaus wasn't mistaken. every muscle in damon's body was rigid, his jaw was clenched, and his eyes were sweeping his surroundings as though he was hunting for another speck of dust to clean.

it seemed that the elder salvatore was trying to keep those busy hands of his occupied. and, being a fairly intuitive man, klaus had a strong suspicion as to why damon was teeming with unspent energy, practically vibrating with restlessness.

"so," he mused, drawing the word out. "any sign of my lovely doppelgänger? the enchanting elena?"

damon's gaze was cutting when it returned to klaus' face. "stay the hell away from her."

"as a gentleman of his word - " klaus chose to ignore damon's incredulous snort of laughter - "i am utterly offended that you'd think i'd go back on my promise."

"because you'd never dream of doing something like that." damon's tone was bitingly sarcastic, which only seemed to entertain klaus more.

"really, damon, i wouldn't think of laying a hand on the girl." he waited a beat before adding, "well... not a harmful hand, anyway."

in an instant his back was to the wall, his shirt twisted in damon's fist as the younger man lifted him off the ground, eyes dark with fury. it would've taken very little effort to free himself, and to do some serious damage while he was at it, but klaus hadn't been so amused in ages. it was quite funny, after all, seeing a man so full to bursting with sexual frustration that he'd channel it by performing household chores.

besides, when it was so easy to needle damon, he couldn't help but indulge himself.

"temper, temper," klaus said, catching damon's fisted hand in a bone-crushing grip until the hold released. "really, damon, that natural aggression will surely get you into trouble some day. have you ever considered meditation? yoga? it's good for the body _and_ soul, you know."

damon absently clenched and unclenched his aching fingers, fighting to calm himself.

he hadn't been so worked up over a girl in longer than he cared to remember. he knew the seemingly indifferent attitude he'd adopted around elena would pay off sooner or later. he knew he was getting under her skin. knew she'd nearly toppled over in surprise when he showed up at her house the night before, asking to see alaric instead of her.

he knew, damn it, that she wanted him. it was just a matter of waiting for her to act on that desire.

he just wasn't sure he'd survive long enough to see the day.

"what are you doing here, anyway?" damon asked, walking into the spotless living room and pouring himself a drink. he glanced up at klaus, raised a brow, then filled a second snifter at the man's nod of assent.

"cheers," klaus said, gently tapping damon's glass with his own before answering the question. "i was looking for your brother. we have... things to discuss."

"he's not here," damon told klaus, taking a seat on the couch only to get up seconds later and pace the length of the room. unless those 'things' klaus alluded to were at all related to elena, he just didn't care. if there was yet more trouble brewing, he'd rather tackle it head on than worry over it.

god knew there was no room in his head for anything but elena.

he wondered what the hell he'd spent his time thinking about before that earthshaking kiss.

before that earthshaking moment when elena had crossed the threshold of the salvatore mansion, taking control of his thoughts, his heart, his life.

"i gathered that," klaus said, sitting on the opposite couch, legs negligently stretched in front of him, fingers drumming a tune on the armrest.

"and i don't know where he is," damon went on pointedly.

"oh, i imagine i could track him down easily enough."

"just whistle and he'll come running," damon returned with a sneer. "and while you're at it, leave."

klaus clucked his tongue. "how terribly rude you are, damon. weren't you just complaining about your brother's poor manners? come now, tell uncle klaus what's going on in that busy little brain of yours."

"you damn well know." damon went back to the decanter, refilled his glass. then whirled around, eyes blazing. "she won't fucking cooperate! i mean god damn it, she's obsessing over this, over the idea that she could lose me - ha, i should be so lucky - if she just indulged, just fucking gave in and enjoyed herself for once. what the hell is _wrong _with her? what the hell is wrong with _me_?"

klaus didn't have time to answer as damon's rant lengthened.

"i know she wants me. i'm not an idiot. and she's got the worst poker face in the history of the universe. well, next to stefan. but i can't deal with this anymore! do you have any clue how hard it is to be around someone _every day_, to see it right there in their eyes - that look, that awareness that says 'i know what you want and i think i might want it too' - to see that and not just... ugh!"

he was in his own world now, oblivious to klaus and the man's expression of pure enjoyment.

"i can't keep doing this, i can't _function_ like this! it was one thing before i kissed her, you know? no - it's not even about me kissing her. it's about her kissing me right back. i could've taken her like _that_," he said, snapping his fingers for emphasis, "but no, i went all white night good guy and just said goodnight, just walked away because i didn't want to push her.

i want her to be _sure,_ you know? i don't want this to be some spur-of-the-moment impulse, i want her to _want_ it and to _know_ she wants it! because if i just, just pushed it, if i dragged her off to bed - jesus i wish i'd dragged her off to bed - she would've been able to wave it all away like a mistake, like a bad decision, like the product of exhaustion and vulnerability, not something more, something _real_. fuck if i'm gonna settle for being a distraction, some little break from reality. it has to be more than that!"

he spun around again, pointed an angry finger in klaus' direction. "you know why it has to be more than that? hmm? do you?"

"i'm sure you'll tell me," klaus replied indulgently.

"because it _is_ more than that! we're more than that! i could show her, if she'd just open herself up to the idea and give it a chance. give us a chance. why does she have to fight me every step of the way?" he dragged a hand through his hair, tugged at it, let out another huffy sigh. "i'm going crazy. i swear to god, i'm going crazy."

"women," klaus commented wisely.

"don't try and humor me," damon muttered, still stalking back and forth across the room.

"oh, i wouldn't dare. not when you're so busy humoring me with these lovelorn antics of yours." klaus drained his glass, placed it on the table beside him and got to his feet.

"do you practice that at home?" damon demanded. "do you stand in front of the mirror and wiggle your eyebrows up and down until you've perfected the amused gentleman expression? that holier-than-thou, your-problems-are-insignificant-but-highly-entertaining look?"

"some things are just innate," klaus responded easily.

"fuck. why am i even talking to you? i swear she's poked holes in my brain. i can't _think_!"

"oh, don't worry, we'll keep your little temper tantrum between us. after all, you've done me a great favor." the truth was, klaus didn't have business, or plans, with stefan. he'd been bored, feeling hemmed in in the house that, days before, had seemed like his own private island.

families could be a serious pain in the ass.

damon speared klaus with a look. "excuse me?"

"no, excuse _me_," klaus answered. "i need to leave. my brothers have been alone with the decorator far too long. god only knows the damage they'll do between themselves. not a speck of taste, either of them. finn will have the poor woman doing some wretched maritime theme - he used to wear an eyepatch, you know. not for practical reasons; he just has a strange obsession with pirates." klaus shuddered at the thought. "he'd probably love those bloody movies with the bird pirate. i personally don't see the appeal, but his taste has always been odd. i remember how livid he was after our father turned us. not for moral reasons, you see. it wasn't that the idea of being an immortal vampire bothered him. but he'd been going through a vegetarian stage. can't very well be a vegetarian vampire."

klaus paused, looked over at damon, whose expression was unreadable. after a moment of silence the younger vampire shook his head.

"you're fucking weird, klaus."

"yes, well, i've had quite a while to cultivate my sterling personality."

"and in another few millennia you might just make something of it."

klaus only gave damon an indulgent smile. "you really should do something about all that sexual frustration, damon. it's not half as much fun pissing you off when you make it so easy."

damon didn't bother with an answer, and klaus tossed damon a cheery wave, then headed for the door. as he walked, he slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the call log. he'd become quite adept with technology over the years, and it took less than a minute to compose the message and hit send.

he was whistling as he closed the door behind him.


	5. Bait

she'd tried, really tried, to curb her temper. she'd spent the brief ride between her house and the salvatore mansion attempting to calm herself down and quiet her train of highly pissed off thoughts.

she'd failed miserably.

before she left home she'd changed three times, finally settling on a snug black short-sleeved shirt with a deep v-neck. she paired the simple top with a brief black skirt hitting well above mid-thigh, then broke up the unrelieved black by wrapping a rainbow scarf around her waist. silver hoops the size of quarters hung from her ears.

she went on to dust her lids with smoky shadow, then lined her eyes with kohl. her hair was pulled back with a butterfly clip, with several strands hanging loose in a disheveled style that would make a man's hands itch to release it and watch it tumble free. she swept watermelon flavored skittles chapstick over her mouth, giving her lips a warm tint that hovered somewhere between red and purple. the overall look was sexy casual, which was precisely what she'd been going for.

she'd already been heading for the door, determined to take the next step with damon, caution be damned, when her cell phone vibrated.

annoyed with the interruption she'd dragged it from her pocket, only to find her jaw dropping when she read the text message.

_"pet, you need to get your man in line. one night was excusable, but i refuse to let my sister keep slumming it with either salvatore, especially the elder."_

suddenly breathless with the shock of the new information, elena had staggered back against the front door, staring at the screen of her cell in disbelief.

damon and _rebekah_?

honest-to-god bile rose in her throat only to be fought down with an audible gulp. the anger wasn't as startling as the pain chasing it, and she'd furiously blinked back tears.

"i'm mad because i love you."

the words rang hollow in her ears. she'd felt horrible for her fiery retort - what had she said? some offhand, vicious retort that had his eyes darkening with hurt. and she'd walked away, turned her back on him, fueled by nerves and frustration and confusion. fueled by her desire to act on feelings she kept trying to quell without making even an inch of headway.

so she'd left with stefan at her side, tried to convince herself that the tattered remnants of their relationship were salvageable.

and hadn't some terrible part of her welcomed his rejection? it had, after all, cleared the way, opened the gate to a pathway leading right to damon salvatore with the ink black hair, the eyes that vacillated between cold ice and blue flame, the quick smile - the agile mouth.

and while she'd been experiencing that queer mixture of sadness and regret and hurt and hope, he'd been ripping that hideous dress off another woman's ready, willing body.

and not just another woman, damn it, but _that _woman.

she knew why klaus had shared the information: he was obviously trying to provoke her in the hopes that she'd throw a wrench in whatever nasty plans damon had for rebekah. she knew he was playing on her emotions, knew he wanted her to interfere and put a stop to the whole disgusting situation.

she knew she was playing right into his hands. she just couldn't seem to stop herself.

she chewed her lip and tried to be objective as she turned onto damon's street. she couldn't exactly go in guns blazing. after all, she didn't actually have any claim to him. what he did on his own time was his business, and she could hardly condemn him for it. if he wanted to fool around with a vicious, vengeful hussy, he was free to do so.

_the hell with that_, she thought bitterly, pulling into the driveway with a dark scowl on her face. he was the one tossing around the word "love," but apparently he didn't know its definition. if he really loved her, he wouldn't reach for another woman. he wouldn't settle for that slutty bitch.

except he would, wouldn't he? she'd so blatantly rejected him, rejected the incomparable gift of true love. and she'd been doing precisely that from the very beginning. treating something precious as though it was nothing but an inconvenience, an annoying albatross weighing on her shoulders.

this had been an act of spite, she decided, grabbing hold of her anger and trying to shake off a very real sense of guilt. he'd done this to show her none of it really mattered, that she didn't really matter, that he was more than capable of bouncing back.

that nagging voice whispered the thought she tried to silence.

_if he wanted to hurt you, he'd have made sure you knew._

but no - she was receiving the information secondhand. which meant... damn it, what _did _it mean?

elena wasn't accustomed to this kind of fierce jealousy. she wasn't built for it, had never been the kind of girl who had to question anyone's affections. there was no one more solid, more dependable, than matt donovan, and during her time with stefan she'd never once doubted his love for her. those two men, so sweet and loving and _good_, had clearly spoiled her. now it seemed that, after years of dodging the unpleasantness of jealousy, the feeling was hitting her tenfold.

common sense told her to put the car in reverse and leave, to take a step back, to refuse to allow klaus to bait her. to turn away and let damon do whatever the hell he wanted to do.

or, more accurately, _whoever _the hell he wanted to do.

with a groan of disgust elena jerked the key from the ignition and got out of the car. she couldn't walk away. she had to know, had to confirm what the sickness in her stomach already treated as gospel truth.

she had to look into his eyes and see the rejection she'd showed him so many times. and damn it, she had to let some of this violent rage out. had to soothe her wounded pride. had to prove to herself that that was all it was - a blow to her ego.

because if it wasn't a blow to her ego, it was a bruise to the heart.

one way or another, she was going to get to the bottom of this. common sense, she decided, gritting her teeth and slamming the car door behind her, was entirely overrated.

dance with the devil [finally part 6]


	6. Dance With the Devil

damon wasn't quite drunk, but he wasn't exactly sober, either. unfortunately, decades upon decades of drinking led to a high tolerance for alcohol, and though he'd thoroughly applied himself to the task of getting good and wasted, he didn't seem to be making that much progress.

he'd taken a cold shower to quiet the roar of his sex drive, but the water had done nothing to wash away his foul mood, which wasn't improved by the angry wrap of knuckles on the front door. he took his time crossing the foyer, a dark wash pair of jeans riding low on his hips. he hadn't gotten around to a shirt and had only given his hair a perfunctory rubdown with the towel he'd thrown over his shoulder. his dark locks were tousled, damp, and inarguably sexy. he held a tumbler of bourbon in one hand, a fat Cuban in the other.

he didn't really enjoy cigars, but he'd wanted to keep both hands busy. which was a good thing, since the sight of elena on the other side of the door had him fighting an urge to grab her and either throttle her or...

dangerous train of thought, he told himself, leaning a shoulder against the door frame with deceptive laziness. every part of that gorgeous body was rock hard.

every part.

"hello, elena. to what do i owe the pleasure?"

the cigar fell to the floor as he moved with wicked speed to catch the fist she'd swung toward his face. with an impatient jerk he yanked her inside and slammed the door behind her, backing her up against it.

she would've been hard pressed to decide whether those eyes were ice or flame, but she lifted her chin up high.

"you're an asshole."

"and you're playing with fire. i'm not in the mood for whatever's crawled up your ass, elena. what the hell do you want?"

"where's your blonde harlot?" she asked, refusing to be intimidated by his aggressive stance and the set of that perfectly chiseled jaw.

"you know caroline and i haven't played together in ages," he said. "and i'm not sure she'd appreciate your choice of adjective."

elena practically snarled, tried to shove him back. it was like trying to fell a brick wall.

"give me some damn breathing room, will you?"

"you gonna punch me again?"

"i didn't get a chance to punch you the first time," she shot back, her voice indicating that she very much wanted another try.

"and you aren't going to," he returned, easily reading her thoughts. "so, what'd i do now?" he turned and made his way back toward the living room, giving elena a chance to fully appreciate the way those broad shoulders tapered in to a narrow waist. and the way those worn-in jeans molded to a particularly sexy male ass.

she shook her head free of her such traitorous, lust-driven thoughts, following him into the room and trying to focus on the matter at hand. she wanted to tell him to put a damn shirt on, but that would only make her look foolish.

"it's not so much a what as a who."

damon's brow quirked. "are we back on caroline? that's old news, sweetheart." he downed his bourbon and went to refill it.

"you know i'm not talking about caroline!" elena took a deep breath, then continued in a more level tone. "aren't you going to offer me some?" she gestured toward the decanter, despite the fact that she didn't actually want any liquor. she had to keep her hands busy before they betrayed her nervous anger.

"no," he answered, and sent her a slow, indolent smile.

she set her teeth, crossed the room to pour herself a healthy dose, then threw it back without so much as a grimace. instead of looking impressed, damon appeared to be faintly bored.

the kick of liquor fanned her temper, but elena only returned the smile and filled the glass again. it was really just a prop in her hands, but she didn't want him to know that, so she took another sip even as her empty stomach rebelled.

"i have things to do," damon lied, watching elena with an expression that easily concealed his thoughts. hers, on the other hand, were written all over her face - anger, frustration, and, if he wasn't mistaken, a hint of hurt. and he had a fairly good idea as to the source of all three.

elena ran her tongue over her teeth, then decided to cut to the chase.

"you slept with rebekah."

again, that dark brow rose. "and?"

he saw, with no little satisfaction, that the pain he'd glimpsed now flooded her eyes, and for a moment, elena was at a loss for words. she curled her fingers into her palm, nails digging into the soft flesh as she tried to summon her composure.

"you're not even going to deny it," she said after a moment, the twist of pain in her heart sharp and humiliating.

"is there a reason i should?"

"maybe because she tried to kill me!"

"you _did _kill her," he responded, hooking a thumb in a belt loop and tugging his jeans lower in the process.

"temporarily. god, you're not the slightest bit ashamed, are you? that you sunk so low?"

"we salvatore men enjoy sharing our women," damon answered, shrugging. "it's pretty much tradition."

elena's jaw snapped shut with an audible click of teeth. no matter how rapidly she blinked she couldn't keep the tears from her eyes, and she hated him for it. "well i hope it was worth it. you just lost any chance you had of sharing me."

"i'm not sure i had much of one to begin with," he replied, his tone indicating a total lack of interest. he was done wearing his damn heart on his sleeve. that heart had already taken enough of a beating, and he wasn't leaving it on her doorstep for a moment longer. she just kept throwing his love back in his face as though it meant absolutely nothing. no - she'd done worse. she'd labeled that love an inconvenience. a fucking _problem._

"how could you, damon?" her voice cracked, further infuriating her.

"i don't really feel like giving you an anatomy lesson." his words were mild, even offhand, and though he told himself not to stoop to her level, not to play into this ridiculous argument caused by nothing more than wounded pride, he couldn't stop himself. "rebekah could give you one, though. she knows her way around a man's body, that's for sure."

he watched that full mouth tremble and ignored the pang of conscience.

"all that talk about love," she managed after a long moment. "you never meant a word of it."

"not a one," he said, smiling again with a cruel twist of lips. "every guy knows the key to a girl's pants is the L-word." he washed the bitterness from his throat with a swig of his drink. "out of curiosity, since when is my sex life any of your business?"

_since i wanted to be a part of that sex life._

"you're right. you're right," she repeated. she put her drink down and picked up the purse she'd dropped on the couch. "sorry. i was out of line." she wouldn't break. not yet. all she had to do was get to the front door.

his next words had her whirling around.

"i don't really care about lines - too much like rules. but since you seem so interested, i didn't cross any with rebekah."

"excuse me?"

"we slept together. unfortunately, we were asleep the whole time."

well that had really taken the wind out of her sails, damon noted. now she could put the pieces of her broken ego back together and leave him in peace - a state of mind he hadn't felt in far too long.

elena swallowed, licked her lips and studied him closely. "you didn't have sex?"

"no, elena. in the illustrious words of mr. bill clinton, i did not have sex with that woman."

"but - but she slept here?"

"she was drunk. i wasn't about to drop her off at casa mikaelson. what with the whole deal with kol, i'm not too popular over there."

"i don't understand. i don't understand you. why didn't you - i mean, why..."

"a second ago you're asking how i could, and now you want to know how i couldn't?" he gave her an ironic smile. "i'm about as big a fan of rebekah as i am of you right now. i wasn't in the mood for a one night stand."

"was she?" the question was out before elena could stop herself.

he rolled his eyes. "contrary to what you think, i'm kind of irresistible. she, however, is not."

"so - she came on to you."

"do you want me to write you a damn report? yeah, she did. she stuck her tongue down my throat, and when i was done choking on it i managed to fight her off."

"you kissed."

"christ elena! i'm not a goddamn saint! she threw herself at me. and i'd be lying if i said i didn't consider catching her."

"but you didn't."

"how many times do i need to answer that question? oh, right, not a one. i don't owe you a damn thing."

"no, you don't," she said slowly, taking a step toward him. her spicy, sexy perfume teased him almost as mercilessly as her low cut top and those long bronzed legs. "i'm sorry," she told him. "i shouldn't have said what i did that night."

"not a problem," he answered, emphasizing the last word.

"i didn't mean it." she ran a hand through her hair, loosening the clip holding it up so the dark waves rained down her back.

"doesn't matter. i'm over it," he told her, lying without a qualm. her words had replayed in his mind countless times, and the worst of it was, she'd been right. loving her _was _a problem. and so far, he hadn't managed to come up with a solution.

he took a seat on the couch and adopted a bored expression. "you did what you came for, little miss i'm-on-a-mission." she remembered the last time he'd called her that, devious amusement dancing in his eyes.

"no, i haven't."

"god damn it, what do you _want_? no, i'll tell you what i want: some fucking quiet." the stubborn set of her jaw told him he wouldn't get that quiet anytime soon, so he rose, walked toward her, idly twirled a lock of silky hair around his finger. "or some loud fucking," he amended, his voice soft but undercut with steel.

she took an automatic step back, but his grip on her hair tightened, keeping her in place. her eyes grew wide and wary.

"what are you doing, damon?"

he could hear the thud of her heart, was infinitely pleased by its unsteady rhythm.

"i told you. fucking quiet, or loud fucking."

"stop it." the words came out as a plea rather than a demand as something dark flickered across her face. again, she tried to move away. again, he tugged her closer. "stop that!" her tone was sharper this time, and a little desperate.

"your pulse is racing," he murmured. its rapid beat was heating her skin, intensifying the intoxicating scent. "i wonder... is it from fear, or curiosity?"

her eyes were riveted on his, and it took her a minute to form a response.

"you can't kiss me, damon." _why the hell not?_

"i think i can. in fact, i think you want me to." he released her hair only to catch the scarf wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. he could feel every line, every curve of her body, and couldn't tell if he was experiencing pain or pleasure.

"let go of me," she said, voice husky, eyes clouded. _why? this is what you _wanted_! this is why you came here!_

"when i'm good and ready," he said mildly, those killer eyes dipping, skimming her mouth in a look as intimate as a kiss. he felt a flash of dark satisfaction at the tremor that went through her.

"maybe _i'm _good and ready," she shot back, furious at the unsteadiness of her voice. she didn't know why she was being so difficult, why she wasn't simply closing the distance between them. she couldn't think, not when she was so lost in sensation, in the press of his body against hers.

"for what?" this was too much fun. she'd rejected him too many times, and seeing the lust he inspired in those big brown eyes was like a cooling balm to his pride. there was no denying that she liked exactly what was happening, even if she didn't like liking it.

"i - i don't know."

"tell me, elena. did you come here to yell at me, or to seduce me?"

another audible gulp. "i don't know."

"well, i suppose you've got a good grip on the art of multi-tasking."

his hand traced the subtle flare of her hip, grazed the side of her breast. she couldn't hold back a sharp indrawn breath, and he felt rather than saw the way her nipples hardened against his chest.

"i don't think i'm ready for this."

he moved away, just a bit, his eyes moving lower as he studied the pucker of those hard nipples against her shirt. his brow arched. "you sure about that?"

she wasn't sure of anything. she wet her lips and felt the blood pumping through her, knew her cheeks were flushed with anticipation, desire. he looked so damn sexy, smelled like shadows and forests and danger.

"i like your skirt," he said, throwing her off completely.

"what?"

he reached out, skimmed a wicked finger under the hem of that skirt and had her moistening her lips again. "easy access."

"not for you," she said without the slightest bit of conviction.

"is that so?" he spoke in a drawl, obviously amused by the fight her brain waged with her body.

"i don't know."

"weird. you're usually so sure of yourself."

"not when it comes to you." she cursed herself for letting the words slip. she'd just handed him a silver platter of power, and the gleam in his eyes told her he knew it.

"i'm sure enough for both of us," he responded, still toying with the hem of her skirt, still looking at her with the eyes of the devil himself.

"this isn't a good idea."

"no such thing," he returned. "come on, elena. live a little."

she'd already thrown her pride to the wolves, and he saw naked vulnerability in her eyes. "i'm scared."

he considered a variety of responses before speaking.

"good. you should be."


	7. Please

"i'm scared."

"good. you should be."

with those ominous words, elena's heart tripped in her chest. what the hell was she doing here, with him? what did she want to do?

what did she want _him_ to do?

the memory of their kiss flashed through her mind. it had been soft, sweet, gentle - and even then, beneath a veneer of tenderness, there'd been so much _heat_. there'd been the promise of so much _more_.

"what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"only one way to find out."

"let's go out. let's - " her voice was a little frantic, her words tangled. "let's get some air. i need some air."

"why's that? having trouble breathing?"

"maybe."

"come here, elena." it wasn't a suggestion, wasn't even an invitation. it was pure command.

"i don't want to."

"liar."

"stop it," she said unsteadily.

"i'm not doing anything."

"you are - you're doing that eye thing." god, how could his gaze feel as sexual as the graze of his fingers?

stupid question. everything about damon oozed sex.

he hooked a thumb under the waistband of his jeans, grinned when her eyes immediately dropped. she let out a little gasp when she saw the obvious evidence of her effect on him.

"who's doing 'that eye thing' now?"

"i can't do this."

"i'll do it for you."

"why does that sound like a threat?"

"because it is one. so many bedrooms in this house, elena. it's a shame not to put them to good use."

she was shaking, was sure that any minute now her legs would give way. he could actually smell the lust burning in her body.

"of course, if you'd rather play somewhere else, there are a number of flat surfaces up for grabs. i'm not all that picky."

elena swallowed, found her mouth dry. used that dryness as an excuse to put off what she'd come to realize was essentially inevitable. "um... damon? can i, uh - can i have something to drink?"

he seemed to turn the question over in his mind, trying to decide if he should give her a second to breathe or go in for the kill. after an endless moment, he smiled again. "anything you'd like in particular, princess?"

"not really. water - water would be fine."

"don't go anywhere."

like she could if she wanted to.

he left the room and elena barely made it to the couch before her knees gave out. for weeks now she'd been plagued by thoughts of damon, by thoughts of what he could do to her, what they could do to each other. for weeks she'd been disturbed by restless dreams, waking with her cheeks flushed and her heart pounding.

apparently the moment of reckoning had arrived.

as she thought it a hand traced the curve of her bare shoulder, making her start in surprise. her head whipped around to see damon leaning lazily against the back of the couch and looking down at her with mischief in his eyes.

he handed her a glass of ice water and smiled. "a bit jumpy, are we?"

"damon, stop it."

"i'm not doing anything," he said for the second time, eyes widening innocently.

"you're - you're hovering. damn it, you're making me nervous!"

his expression sobered but his eyes still danced deviously. he rested an elbow on the back of the couch, brought his mouth to her ear and whispered. "why on earth would i make you nervous?"

she couldn't help it - as his breath warmed her ear she shivered, and it wasn't an unpleasant sensation.

"wanna go upstairs, elena?"

"no," she said, doing her best to sound forceful and falling far short of the mark.

"come on, sweetheart. don't you want to dance?"

"only vertically," she shot back.

"a wall counts as a flat surface," he answered, smooth and wicked as always. he launched himself over the couch and snagged the untouched glass of water from her hand. "come on, elena. you know you want to."

"wanting something and actually doing it - that's what separates kids from adults."

"every now and then it's healthy to listen to your inner child."

so saying, he caught her hand, pulled her to her feet, making her stumble and collide with his chest, and he steadied her, sliding an arm around her waist. pressed flush against him, elena drew a sharp breath, her eyes locking on his mouth. he could feel the erratic beat of her heart and experienced a twinge of conscience.

this was one of those times when he wished he truly didn't care. it was also one of those times when the part of him that did care was absolutely vital.

"we don't have to do anything you don't want to do, elena." the voice that had been so playful, so sharp and challenging, turned to velvet. his vivid eyes softened.

"this - i think i want this," she managed.

damon cursed, put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her, his expression serious. "there's a difference between thinking you want something and really wanting it," he murmured, hating himself for giving her an out even as he knew he couldn't do anything else.

"i know that." she lifted a hand to his face, ran her thumb over his bottom lip. "can we... i'm _scared_," she said, and he heard the same regret he was feeling in her tone. heard that she wanted exactly what he did, but wasn't quite sure she could summon the nerve to grab it.

"i'd never hurt you. you know i'd never hurt you."

"it's not that. it's... i'm not scared of you, damon. i'm scared of this, of us. i feel like... i feel like anything that starts between us will end up taking over everything else. like - there are just so many sparks. just looking at you starts this fire in me, and... i'm so scared of getting burned. but it's not just that. because what scares me even more, what scares me most is that... i want to. i want to get burned."

the knowledge swept through her, an electrical current sparking just as wildly as whatever it was that sizzled between them. she wanted this. she wanted the burn, wanted to burn. wanted him to stoke the fire.

she closed the distance between them, brought her hands to his chest, felt the tremor that ran through him at her touch. saw something dark, something hot, flash in his eyes.

"you're right here," she said, reaching for his hand, pressing his palm to her breast, to her heart. "you snuck in, and i can't get you out. all i have to do is lick my lips, and i can taste you. you're like a drug, damon. and now that you're inside me i can't think of anything else. it's scary, and it's strong, and god it's so sexy i can hardly stand it." rising to her toes, she brought her lips to his, stopping just close enough to feel the shimmering breath of his slow exhalation. "i want this. i _need _this. please. please just kiss me, damon. if you don't kiss me, i think i might die."

the animal in him roared, clawed in his chest, and it took every bit of his willpower to keep himself from savaging her mouth with his. instead, he let his lips whisper over hers, teased her with his taste. her lips parted involuntarily on a little gasp of breath, and the sound of it fed the beast inside him. he desperately wanted to plunder, to ravish, to destroy; his body practically vibrated with repressed desire.

but she'd said she was scared, and he'd exploited those fears, partly as payback for all she'd put him through and partly because, well, it was fun. now, now that he had her there, willing, waiting, wanting, he was terrified to make the wrong move. he ran his tongue over the curve of her bottom lip, then caught it between his teeth in a soft bite. she made a low sound deep in her throat, a sound that asked for more.

with infinite care, with absolute tenderness, he gave her exactly that.


	8. Finale

it was elena who shocked herself - or would have, anyway, if she'd been thinking straight - by turning the soft kiss into a savage attack. with lips, teeth and tongue, she assaulted damon's mouth, unconsciously grinding her hips against his very apparent hard-on.

his hands gripped her hips tightly enough to bruise as his blood pressure spiked violently. he pulled away, finding it hard to catch a breath, then tipped his head forward to rest his forehead on hers.

"okay - hold on," he said, again drawing a long inhalation.

"no," she answered, and rose on tiptoe, sliding a hand up his neck and tightening her fingers in his hair, yanking him back to her hungry mouth. she dragged her lips from his only to scrape her teeth along the length of his throat, then sunk those teeth into his earlobe before flicking her tongue over it. "i want you, damon," she whispered, her voice husky, her breath warm, her tongue torturous. "i want you to do all those things i see in your eyes when you look at me." she bit again as his hand fisted convulsively around the fabric of her shirt as though he was trying to find a handhold, something to distract his own fingers from all that soft, hot skin.

"elena," he said hoarsely, "you wouldn't survive all the things i want to do to you."

she stepped back, mouth swollen and sexy, eyes hot with lust, and in one quick movement she pulled her tank over her head and tossed it aside.

beneath it she wore nothing but skin.

"elena -"

"shut up, damon." she licked her lips in a slow, deliberate caress, reached out a hand and snagged the waistband of his jeans, flicking her thumb under the denim fabric, skimming the coarse, dark hair leading straight to paradise. "for days, you're all i've been able to think about. i wake up in the middle of the night and i'm so hot," she continued, grabbing his other hand with her free one and bringing it to her breast, clasping that rough palm to her skin, molding his fingers to her.

"i wake up and i'm all flushed," she went on, nimbly catching the fly of his jeans and drawing it down slowly, her eyes dark, her body shivering under his touch. his thumb grazed her nipple and she let out a purr of satisfaction, gloried in the way he looked at her with such unadulterated passion, such vicious hunger. "i need you to touch me. i _need _it."

some dim part of her mind registered her own words and marveled at their blatant sexuality. this wasn't the elena she knew - she had a sex drive, sure, but she'd never spoken like this to a man, never asked him to do wicked things to her, to take advantage of every inch of her body.

but nothing was ever normal when it came to her feelings for damon. in that moment, she accepted the fact - embraced it, even, as she made the conscious decision to throw caution to the wind, to open herself to him in every way.

his eyes were smoky blue now, hypnotic - if she didn't know better she'd swear he was compelling her. but she did; she knew he'd never hurt her, never abuse the power he could easily have over her - unless she asked him to.

so she did.

her hand dipped lower, brushing him through the silk of his boxers, and when he trembled she smiled a cat-ate-the-canary smile.

"let go, damon. don't hold back. love me, love my body. show me what it's like."

he managed a sharp oath as the leash snapped on his control. her eyes grew huge with excitement and fear as he dragged her head back, kissed her feverishly. the room spun, and for one disorienting moment she felt suspended in thin air before her bare back slammed against the cool wood paneling of the wall, as he crushed his mouth, his body, against hers.

"is this what you want, elena?" his breathing was ragged, and before she could answer his mouth caught her nipple, his tongue flicking over the taut peak and making her moan as sensations - heat, dewy, unbelievably heat - flooded her body. his teeth sunk into the sensitive flesh and she let out a cry of pain, of pleasure, raked her nails down the length of his back.

"i'm not going to stop until you're screaming my name," he growled, and it came out sounding like a threat and a promise.

"i want your mouth - i need - " she wrapped a shaking arm around his neck and drew that mouth down to her breast, pressed his face against her and felt the wicked nip of teeth.

she was writhing against the wall and his hand snaked up to shove her skirt higher on her hips so that she could twine her legs around him, pulsing center to center. her hand slipped between them as she reached for him, and he let out a hiss, bit hard on her nipple, heard another moan rip from her throat and barely registered his own answering sound of tormented pleasure.

"my bed," he managed, spinning her around again and carrying her in a blurry rush of speed to his room, closing the door by pressing her back to it. he pulled back and his gaze was eerily intense. "when i have you under me, it's going to be in _my _bed."

she felt a shiver of something - fear? anticipation? - shrugged it away to kiss him again, but he ducked out of reach.

"first things first," he said, stepping back so he could drink in the delicious view of her quivering body. "lose the skirt."

her mouth opened in protest and he lifted a finger to her lips.

"shut up, elena. we're playing my way."

with a gasping shudder she nodded, mute, and brought her fingers to the button of her skirt. those fingers fumbled, and his lip curled in a mocking smile.

"having trouble, sweetheart?"

deliberately she fastened her gaze on him, refused to lower it as she undid the button. keeping her eyes on his she slid the denim over her hips, body bent low, head angled up, breasts dancing with gravity. she kicked aside the pool of fabric and stood in front of him, feeling a little like a stripper on display in a pair of five-inch heels and a lacy black excuse for panties.

he made a strangled sound but didn't move toward her, simply kept her standing motionless with the sheer power of his brilliant eyes.

"you're fucking perfect," he said after an endless moment.

"why do you get to keep your pants on?" she asked, trailing a finger down her ribcage. his eyes may as well have been attached by a string to that finger - he was captivated, following its path to where it stopped right above the little swatch of black.

"think of them as wrapping," he said. "if you're a good girl, you get what's inside."

her heart was hammering but she managed a response. "what exactly does a good girl have to do?"

"bad, bad things," he answered, beckoning her with a finger. "come here, elena. i want you to watch what i can do to you."

even as her legs shook she walked to him, then let out a little gasp as he spun her so that her nearly-naked backside was pressed to his all-too-clothed front. she could feel the length of him against her hip and wondered fleetingly how she'd ever accommodate his size.

her heels evened out the height disparity and everything lined up exactly as it should - or as it would when they were face-to-face. but now he urged her forward until they stood together in front of a full length mirror. she looked at her reflection and saw what he saw - a beautiful girl with round, luscious breasts and hard, puckered nipples begging to be touched. a girl with a heavy mouth wet from kisses and eyes so dark they were nearly black.

"i'm gonna touch you," he murmured into her neck, and his eyes remained open, lasers of piercing blue watching their shared reflection. true to his word he brought his hands from their place on her waist up to her chest as he cupped her breasts, those dark, masculine hands big and possessive against her skin. he teased her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, listened with dark satisfaction as her breath caught.

"damon - damon - please -"

"shh," he whispered, pinching her hot skin. "the only sound i want to hear you make is when you're screaming my name. okay?"

"okay," she answered, then let out a cry of pain when he twisted her nipple.

"okay?" he repeated.

this time her head jerked up and down in an acquiescent nod.

he skimmed the fingers of his right hand down the length of her torso toward her aching center; his left hand continued to toy with her swollen, heavy breast. she arched automatically into his hand, silently begging him to touch what so desperately cried for him.

he immediately withdrew and sent her a look of mild reproof. "i'll get there when i'm good and ready," he said, though god knew he was beyond ready. if she hadn't already undone the fly of his jeans the button would've burst - the denim strained against his hard on, but if he took off the pants everything would end too soon. so he ignored the pain in favor of her pleasure.

now his fingers crept again toward that little triangle, and she couldn't hold back a whimper. devilish satisfaction flashed in his eyes but he only moved those fingers to her inner thighs, so so close, so unbearably far.

abruptly he stepped away and elena had to bite her lip to hold back a desperate protest. he sent her a slow smile from across the room - jesus he moved fast - and then he was behind her again, cupping something in his hands.

"close your eyes," he instructed, his voice hoarse with repressed lust.

her lids fluttered shut, then flew open again when the ice he'd taken from a water pitcher dripped down the curved slope of her breast.

he pulled away again and sent her a hard look in the mirror.

"just for that, i've decided you're not allowed to make any sound at all."

wouldn't it be fun forcing her to break his own rule?

he watched those big eyes drift closed again and pressed the swiftly melting ice in his palms to her breasts, drawing circles around her dark nipples, moving closer and closer until finally, finally, he flicked the hard tips. she let out a gasp of pleasure - and he instantly stepped back.

"please - i'm sorry," she said, voice wavering, body trembling. "i'll be quiet," she murmured, then bit her lip as though to ensure she'd keep her promise.

now he knelt beside her, caught a slender ankle in his hand and drew it over to widen her stance. his slick hands traced the length of her calf, moving toward her thigh, higher, higher - then retreated.

"wider," he told her, and as she did as he asked he grabbed the waistband of her panties and tore them aside, impatient with the barrier. now he used both hands to climb her inner thighs, and he suddenly caught the rusty scent of blood, glanced up to see the stain of it on her bottom lip as she tried desperately to hold back her cries.

"look at me," he demanded, and elena's eyes dropped. with one slight flick of a finger he skimmed the nub of her clitoris - and just like that she shattered with a broken moan.

he was certain he'd never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of elena lost in passion, and he rose to his feet, catching her as her knees folded.

"i won't hold that one against you," he said, "since it was sort of my fault."

she couldn't form an answer and his smile widened.

"come here, baby," he urged, cradling her to him as she rode the quivering thrill of the mind-numbing orgasm. he lay her back on the bed, then stood again and nearly tripped over his jeans in his hurry to take them off.

she didn't notice - her eyes were still closed, her body still shaking.

"damon," she whimpered, reaching blindly for him, "i need you - i need to feel you -"

"hold on, baby," he answered, bringing his hands behind her knees and dragging them back so that her legs were bent and she gleamed hot and wet and waiting before him.

he couldn't stop himself - he had to taste.

she didn't realize she'd grabbed his head and pressed his mouth closer, wasn't the slightest bit aware that her hips were pulsing beneath him, and when his tongue teased her she cried out and came again.

his little laugh was muffled against her and her hands slid limply to the bedspread. he raised himself up and looked down at her flushed face, memorizing every detail. after all this time, elena gilbert was naked in his bed.

her eyes opened lazily and she stared up at him, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile.

"do i get you now?"

"i get you," he answered, unable to keep the tenderness from his tone. he'd meant to show her fast, furious sex - he'd had every intention of fucking her brainless. but he couldn't. not now, not when she looked so warm and soft and sexy beneath him, not when his heart was bursting with love for her.

she propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at him before extending a tentative hand and brushing his rock hard shaft.

"come here," she whispered, holding him in a loose grip, raising her hips. he was ranged over her, his cock close enough to skim her wet readiness, and she looked up at him and smiled radiantly. "i want you all at once, okay? just - just give me all of you."

"jesus i love you," he said, but didn't give her time to form a response. instead he did exactly as she asked, all but impaling her in one hard plunge.

he rode her like a furious animal, pounded against her, felt her long, sexy thighs clasp his hips, felt the sweet softness inside, felt her contract around him in another mindless orgasm. ruthlessly he drove her up, up - brought his hand between them, toyed with that pleasure button as he rammed his hips in and out, in and out.

when she came again, his name tore from her lips in a wild scream of delirium.

after, he held her close, still inside her, unwilling to pull away. he could still feel her opening and closing around him as she rode the aftershocks of his loving. she was practically a puddle beneath him, the hands that had been fisted in the sheets, in his hair, limp on either side.

and then she smiled up at him and spoke in a silky whisper.

"finally."


End file.
